Exit Wounds
by lalaland01
Summary: Claire, cousin of Sookie, is lost. One of the few truly immortal beings on earth must come to terms with her never-ending existence while desperately trying to untangle the web of lies surrounding Sookie Stackhouse and all her supernatural lovers.


**AN: Hey all! Here is my latest brain child...hope you enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but some of the plot and any OCs. **

**WARNINGS: Violence, Horror, Sexual References, Swearing. **

**Ye be warned.**

**SUMMARY: Claire Bennet, cousin of Sookie, is lost. She no longer has reason to fight as the war has been won. She no longer has reason to love as her love is gone. So what should she live for? One of the few truly immortal beings on earth must come to terms with her never-ending existence while desperately trying to untangle the web of lies surrounding Sookie Stackhouse and all her supernatural lovers.**

* * *

**Chapter One:**

**Goodbye**

_**I'll only lay the day I can't remember you at all  
And it's not easy to say that day  
Is already come and gone  
And all that remains is a place  
Where you no longer are**_

_**-Goodbye, Greg Laswell**_

* * *

Tracy Strauss was pissed off. _Really _pissed off.

Now, there is a huge difference between the two. Just plain pissed off means someone is going to pay. _Really _pissed off means that someone is going to die.

As previously stated, this was the latter of the two.

See, her best friend, Claire Bennet, had decided to take off and leave her with every single Special-related problem on the face of the earth, and there were many. From the nature freak that had decided to turn his town into a horror scene from _Day of the Triffids _to the human flame thrower that blew up his neighbor's house. Yet every time Tracy managed to fix one of them, another one popped up out of nowhere.

And where was Claire in the midst off these many crises?

On a vacation.

On a _fucking _vacation.

These four words were all that echoed in Tracy's mind as she sat at her desk at the Primatech HQ, looking over the many files and sheets of paper detailing each and every detail of the various issues. But most of her annoyance stemmed from the fact that she didn't hate Claire for needing the time off. After all, the former cheerleader had been through hell ever since her 16th birthday, and now, ten years later, she deserved a chance to step back from the insanity that was her life and breathe for once. Especially after recent events...

Her rather frenzied musings were interrupted by a knock at the door, and Tracy looked up to glare at the wood as though it had personally offended her.

"Who is it?" she asked, sounding much harsher than she intended.

"Santa Claus," came the amused reply, and Tracy groaned as she recognized the unmistakable drawling accent.

"What do you want Claude?" she asked, hoping to convey one simple message in her tone; get lost.

"I just wish to set my poor, tortured eyes upon your lovely face and know that all is well in the world," came the dramatic reply, and the woman snorted.

"Go away Claude. I am not in the mood for your over-dramatics."

The door opened and Claude leant against the frame, his hands tucked in the pockets of his dress slacks. "What's up your ass?" he asked as though it was the funniest thing he had ever said in his life.

"I believe I told you to go away," Tracy repeated, pretending to look through the files on her desk.

"And I believe in faeries," he shot back before shutting the door with a flourish before seating himself in the chair across from her with a huff. He leant forward and put his elbows down on her desk, resting his chin on his hands and looking at her with a small smile. "What's up Buttercup?"

Tracy hit him across the face with the file nearest to her hand. "I don't have time for this. I have too much to do."

"No you don't," he replied simply before leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs, making himself at home.

She glared at him. "Can you not see the millions of files all over my desk?"

He rolled his eyes. "Of course I can Trace. But they're not yours to fix. They're ours to fix. You're not the only one working here. There are hundreds of other employees. Hell, I'm sure that half of these shouldn't even be on your desk right now. You're the director, not the whole bloody company!"

"Well it sure as hell feels like I'm the whole company," she grumbled. "I swear I'm the only one doing any work. Aren't you supposed to be in Jamaica?"

He shrugged. "Got back early, decided to come and hang 'round here to have some fun," he replied. He looked at her irritated expression. "Evidently I came to the wrong place for that."

"Evidently," she hissed in reply.

"What's got you so bothered?" he asked once more, choosing to phrase it in a less idiotic fashion this time.

"I just feel...overwhelmed. And it's not a feeling I'm used to. I don't know how to handle it. I mean, Claire helps keep all this under control, but she's gone for a little holiday, and I want to be mad at her for that, but I can't! Not after everything that's happened. She and the rest of REBEL all need some time off after Alex's death," she explained herself, and Claude nodded understandingly, suddenly becoming serious.

"I understand love," he told her. "And there isn't a whole lot that I can tell you. I don't have all the answers, as much as I might pretend to. I wish there was something easy and simple that could help you, but it's not like that. It's never like that. Just...keep going. Claire will be back before you know it."

She smiled sadly at him. "Thanks Claude. I think I needed that," she said before glaring at him once more. "And I'm not your 'love'."

"First of all, I call everything with legs love, and second of all, it's no problem. I am the guru of life after all."

Tracy sighed. "And the sensible moment has passed."

He grinned at her. "Yep. That's my sensibility for this month done." He stood from the chair. "Now, I have to go and find someone to annoy that won't separate my head from my body. Catch you later!"

And with that he was gone, leaving Tracy alone to think over his words.

* * *

Claire sighed, resisting the urge to press her foot down harder on the accelerator. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, the rubber squeaking against her skin.

She was on the way to meet the cousin she had never known she had for the first time, and while this excited her greatly, she found herself unwilling to get her hopes up. So far, when it came to family members, Claire had been sorely disappointed time and time again. Except for Peter, of course. But not even her uncle could make her feel better now.

She missed Alex.

Alex Wolsley, the infuriating son of a bitch that knew how to make even the most calm individuals wish to scream and laugh and cry all at once, had gone and gotten himself killed.

Bastard.

Didn't he know she needed him? Didn't he know they all needed him? He was one of her closest friends, and he'd just gone and died.

And the worst part was that it was her own stupid fault.

_"Claire, come on! We gotta get going!" Alex called to the blonde who was still fast asleep on the couch. He picked up a cushion and threw it at her. _

_"Hey!" she said, shoving it out of the way. "Piss off!"_

_"No! Claire, we gotta hit the road! We've got a case in New Orleans and I wanna make it there by dark. Get your ass up!" he insisted._

_She groaned and tried to roll over, but instead landed on the ground. "Oof!"_

_Alex snickered as he packed his bag. "Serves you right. Now get up!"  
_

_"Al..." she groaned from where she lay. "Do I have to go? I mean, it's just a small case, nothing huge. We're just checking the guy out. You could do this case in your sleep."_

_"But I want you to come along!" he insisted. "It'll be fun! We can even listen to Taylor Swift on the way, but only if you get up and ready in ten minutes."_

_"Al, please," she begged, slowly standing and making her way over to where he stood at the table, still putting the last of his things in his bag. "I'm so tired. I've been out partying with Tracy every night this weekend, and I'm wrecked. I need sleep."_

_"You can sleep on the way," he suggested. "I'll even let you take a pillow and a blanket."_

_She groaned and rubbed her messed up hair with her hand. "Al, please!"_

_He sighed and looked her up and down. She was still dressed in the short, blue dress she had worn to the bar the previous night with Tracy, only she had managed to remove the stockings she had worn under it. Her feet were bare, and he could see her black pumps on the ground by the door. Her make-up had smudged over her face overnight, giving her black rings under her eyes, but this could have just been lack of sleep also. _

_"Fine," he acquiesced, and she grinned and gave him a hug. _

_"Thanks Al," she said. "Oh, and thanks for letting me crash here last night. Tracy was way too hammered to drive us all the way home, so I told her I'd walk here to stay and she went home with this guy. I should probably call her later and ask her how that went, but I don't want to interrupt anything-"_

_"Claire, you're doing it again," he interrupted, and she yawned at him._

_"What?"_

_"That thing that you do when you're tired. You just keep talking and talking and you won't stop until someone makes you. Now go and get some more sleep, you look like shit," he ordered, and she giggled._

_"Love you too biatch," she shot back. _

_"Yeah, whatever. You can sleep in my bed," he told her._

_She squeezed his shoulder and gave him a small smile in thanks before trudging down the hall to his room, opening the door and flopping herself down on the bed, falling asleep in seconds. _

_And she had slept in his bed for the rest of that day, snoring soundly and surrounded with pillows that smelt like that ridiculous mens deodorant he thought made him smell sexy. _

_When she woke, she had washed her face in his sink, wiped it dry on the spare towel he always left on the bath for when she invited herself over (which wasn't a rare occurrence) and used his mouth wash to try to rid her breath of the stench of alcohol. She then opened the bottom drawer beneath his sink where he put all the girly stuff she, Abigail and Sparrow left lying around; bobby pins, hair ties, clips, spare bra straps, etc. He was a 'waste not want not' kind of guy, and he kept it all there in case they needed anything while they were over at his house. Claire picked up a hair tie and a handful of bobby pins and managed to strangle her hair into a bun on top of her head. _

_She walked through the rest of the house, found a bottle of coke he had left in the fridge and sat on the sofa, not bothering to remove the sheets she had left on it from the previous night. She put her feet up on the table and turned on the TV, flicking through all the crap telly before finding some reruns that were half-decent. _

_And she stayed there, drinking the last of the coke and drifting off to sleep to the sounds of 'How you doin'?' and 'What you talkin' bout Willis?'. _

* * *

_Peter came to see her the next night. She was still at Alex's, waiting for him to get back from the trip so they could celebrate a job well done. She wasn't sure when he was supposed to be getting back, but she didn't want to call and interrupt anything, so she let it be._

_She got up to answer the door the moment she heard the knock, and she grinned when she saw the familiar face standing there, dressing in jeans and a black T-shirt. _

_"Hey Pete," she greeted, giving him a hug. He smiled and returned it._

_"Hey Claire. I've been looking for you everywhere!" he exclaimed, and Claire heard the edge in his voice. She pulled back and looked him in the eye._

_"What's going on?" she asked. "Is everything okay?"_

_"It's Alex," he told her, and she froze._

_"What about Alex? Is he okay?"_

_Peter shook his head sadly. "There was an...accident on the job."_

_"What kind of accident?" she demanded. "What the hell happened Peter?"_

_"I think you need to sit down, Claire," he said gently, walking into the apartment and holding Claire's wrist tightly._

_"Fuck sitting down!" she exclaimed. "What happened?"_

_He sighed and turned back to her, sadness filling his eyes. "The guy was freaking out. Alex went in, tried to talk him down, but it didn't work. The guy shot his wife and Alex, and then himself."_

_"Oh my God, is Alex okay?" Claire breathed._

_Peter shook his head. "I'm so sorry Claire...he died on the way to the local hospital."_

* * *

By the time Claire got to Bon Temps it was dark, so she checked into a motel before making her way to the local bar where she had been told her cousin worked. She parked her car in the parking lot, briefly noticing how out of place her clean Merecedes looked in amongst mud-covered trucks.

She locked the car as she always had after having her first car stolen when she was 17, and turned to walk inside the building, finding herself slightly nervous at the prospect of meeting another member of her family.

* * *

**There it is! Sorry it's a lot shorter than I wanted it to be, but I will try my best to make the next few chapters longer. Next one should be up within a week, and never fear, True Blood characters will be featured! :) **

**Reviews are much appreciated! **


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